❝ Must you plant your nose so firmly where it doesn't belong? ❞ A deep purr sounded from a nearby alley, the tongue it rolled from darting out to lap up any remaining blood from green tinged lips. ❝ You're a little late on the intervention, Batgirl. ❞
@cannivine
I slow to a stop at the mouth of the alley, my boots scraping against the pavement as I look over the dark passage. My cape settles behind me while my eyes flick over every shadow, every fire escape, every place someone could be hiding. I fold my arms with a small shake of my head.
“You make it sound like I need an appointment before I stop someone from leaving a trail of blood behind.”
I take a few careful steps into the alley, keeping my guard up. My gaze catches on the faint smear of blood, and I crouch for a second to check it before looking back up.
“And yeah, maybe I’m late. That just means you had a head start, not that you got away with anything.”
I straighten up, planting my hands on my hips as I scan the rooftops and the narrow path ahead.
“So here’s the deal: you can keep giving me creepy little alley speeches or you can tell me who got hurt and save me some detective work.”
I shrug as a grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“Either way, I’m still gonna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I tap the yellow bat emblem on my chest with a gloved finger.
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Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
The whole thing had honestly been a little overwhelming. Contrary to many, who seemed particularly natural on that red carpet, posing like pros before moving on and entering the building, Mara had to adjust to the flashing lights and instead of the expected smize, she gave her best attempt at a smile, apprehension meeting some happiness at being there.
Eventually, she got to move on and enter the building, awaiting for Lana to be done, the news anchor having been pulled aside for a short bite size interview.
Once they'd been reunited, they headed inside, much like everyone else to listen to M. Matthew Matheson's impassionared speech. The researcher felt a certain pride at the words, knowing she, alongside with many of her colleagues participated in rebuilding the news channel reputation and even building its national popularity. To stand there today, was also important considering what had happened in the past, the attacks, the loss, the anger they'd apparently fed in others...
Biting her upper lip, Mara refused to get lost in bleak memories at a moment of celebration. Instead, she politely clapped with the others as Matheson finished his intervention. She turned to Lana, a question on her lips: "Silent Auction? I feel like it'd be good to get a look at the prizes ASAP. Besides I'm going on a limb there but I think the first bid is about all I can afford." She said, only half-joking.
Smiling fondly, Lana had watched Mara take on the red carpet after a determined exhale, taking on the flashes like a champ before hastily retreating inside the building. The redhead had followed after her date for the evening, calmly offering different angles to showcase the backless dress she'd chosen to match Mara's own suit, even having a bit of fun with it before moving on. Before she could get to the cocktail hall however, she was pulled aside by a fellow journalist for a couple of questions.
"Miss Lang! So good to see you one the stars of the evening!"
Lana laughed. "I doubt I shine half as bright as most of the guests." She easily replied. "Perhaps not enough jewelry?" She added, tilting her head to the side and scrunching her nose a little in amusement.
"I assure you, you're not lacking in shine. So I have to ask, how does it feel to be in Metropolis? And why GBS? Rumour has it, it wasn't the only news outlet trying to add you to their roster..."
Lana's eyebrows rose. "Hum..." She scratched her eyebrow. "Honestly it feels oddly familiar." She replied. "The people have been lovely but I haven't seen my first alien attack yet so maybe my mind will change then." She joked. "As for why GBS, why not? I think the channel has proven their willingness to take accountability and to defend their news' programs duty to tell the truth as well as defend their workers' right. I don't think I'd want to be anywhere else."
"Especially since you're the big fish here, whilst you might not be so big in a bigger pond..."
"That's true. GBS has given me a lot of bandwith to work with, and you can see my name in big letters all around town. But at this point of my career, I'm too confident in my abilities to fear healthy competition. In fact, I welcome it. Perhaps that's part of why I signed with GBS News rather than any of the competitors." She added with a shrug.
"Thank you so much for those answers. Now this one should be more of a softball question but with the rumours we've heard it might not... Who is, Lana Lang's plus one?"
Lana laughed. "I think you might be disappointed by the answer but let it be noted that I am very pleased with my choice to come with my colleague Mara Feig. Miss Feig's been with GBS for a while now, and is head of our research team, taking on the arduous task of fact-checking a lot of our news reports. If you're looking for the future faces of GBS News, maybe you should be talking to her." She replied, refusing to feed any rumour about her and Clark. At this point, there honestly was so little to say anyway.
"Alright. We will. Thank you for your time Miss Lang."
Lana nodded. "Thank you for having me!" She replied. "Give my best to your folks!" She added, out of habit before heading towards the cocktail hall, catching up with Mara.
"Hey," She let out, a hand of hers finding Mara's back to signal her arrival. "sorry for that." She added, reaching out for one of Mara's hand to wrap an arm around the others as they walked in the actual hall, getting closer to the stage to listen to M. Matthew Matheson. During the man's speech, Lana couldn't help but steal glances around the room, recognizing some faces. Her gaze eventually settled on Mara, giving her colleague's hand a gentle squeeze. For some, the attacks had just been a news events, but for those who'd lived through them and still decided to show up today, it must have felt different...
The redhead laughed when Mara explained her reasoning for wanting to check out the silent auction. She nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Besides I heard there were seasonal tickets for the Mammoths and I think Pete Junior might like that." She replied. "But I also spotted Batgirl and I have to get like a word in with her at some point, as a fellow redhead or something." She said, grinning as the two women headed out of the cocktail hall.
@mara-culous-lady-of-the-bog + @batgirlspain mention (I was going to include you more but you already have two replies cued up with the Loises so you can always join in at the silent auction later! No pressure!)
I look up from the auction table and immediately recognize one of the women heading my way. A real smile crosses my face.
“Mara. It’s good to see you.”
I tilt my head slightly.
“I gotta say, seeing you here’s a lot better than the last time we crossed paths.”
I let out a quiet chuckle, leaving it at that. No need to bring the whole night back into the spotlight at a celebration. My attention shifts to the woman beside her.
“And you must be Lana Lang.”
I offer her my hand.
“We haven’t met before, but I’ve heard plenty about your reporting. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”
I glance between them before looking back at the auction display.
“I was just checking out the silent auction. There are a few things here that caught my eye. I’m trying to decide whether to be sensible or competitive.”
I shrug with a grin before my eyes drift around the room for a moment.
“Gotta say it’s nice seeing GBS buzzing because of a celebration. Feels like a good night for everyone who’s worked hard to get the place back on its feet.”
I look back at the two of them.
“So… are either of you here with a game plan for the auction or are you just gonna see where the bidding takes you?”
@lanalang-off + @mara-culous-lady-of-the-bog (just in case you wanna interact, feel free to do so! No pressure!)
Mara chuckled when Lana apologized for having been pulled away for an interview. "No need for that, you're a big name. Own it. You worked for it." She told the other, letting her hook their arms together as they made their way closer to the stage where Matheson's intervention took place. The quiet show of support in the form of a hand squeeze was appreciated, really, even though he definitely did not help the nod forming in her throat. Blinking, Mara reminded herself that she'd also come to honor those who couldn't, to honor their work, and to prove that GBS did not scare so easy nor bend to the whims of those only seeking to provoke terror.
Happy to let Lana carry the most of the conversation for a bit as they distanced themselves from the stage and headed for the silent auction tables, Mara still chuckled at the redhead's by her side comment that she had to eventually speak to Batgirl at some point, as a fellow redhead.
And lo and behold, who stood near the auction tables, well, none others than Batgirl herself. "Batgirl." Mara let out, lips curling reflexively. The smile small but earnest. "It is good to see you too, especially under much pleasant circumstances." She replied, keeping her mention of the attacks and Batgirl's subsequent rescue short as well.
The researcher gently nudged the news anchor as she was directly addressed by the vigilante she meant to talk to, happy to let her take on the conversation from here.
The redhead smiled at her companion, a little bashful at the compliments though she felt great pride in her career. It always felt a little surreal, a little awkward to her, who'd always felt so small in spite in of how popular or well, famous, she ever got. Ah well, her issues to work on, which she knew. And was, actively working on.
"What you don't believe redheads solidarity is real? I'll have you know that we burn easier and have a more acute sense of pain!"
Lana went on. Though her facts were accurate, her tone was very clearly humorous, happy to carry the conversation as Mara grew pensive.
"I'm still glad Junior's a redhead though. He looks like me the most, with the green eyes and everything. That, Pete can't take away."
She added, a mix of bitter and cheeky. Honestly, seen how horrible he'd been with the divorce, she could make a couple of those acerbic remarks. It was all she could do to Senator Pete Ross, really. Mhm. Perhaps she needed a drink...
Or a pleasant distraction...
One certainly came in the form of no other than Batgirl appearing in front of them. Lana's eyes widened upon realising Mara apparently knew the vigilante, her eyes going from one to the other before she blinked her surprise away. Well alright then. Miss Feig was certainly well-connected, for all her discrete ways. When Mara elbowed her, Lana refocused on the ongoing conversation, taking ahold of the gloved hand offered to her.
"Yes! This is she! Lana Lang!" She replied. "I mean, you know that, I'm not on the phone." She chuckled. "Sorry. I don't meet superheroes all that often." She admitted. "Let alone fellow redheaded ones." She smoothly added, transitioning back into the confident reporter she was. "Wish I could put a face to the title too, but I suppose there's a couple people too many here for such a grand reveal to take place."
Lana stole a glance towards her date for the evening when asked if they had a game plan. "Honestly? Not really. I think GBS is banking on the competitive streak of rich people while the two of us are just hoping to be able to make a bid or two on the prizes that actually interest us. I think my son would love tickets for the hockey season so I might splurge a little, but my pockets definitely do not run as deep as Bruce Wayne or Jenny Kord."
“Believe me, Ms. Lang, if I took the mask off at a gala, I’d probably give half the photographers heart attacks.”
I smile and tap the edge of my cowl with a gloved finger.
“This is as much of my face as anybody gets.”
I grin. The black cowl leaves the lower half of my face uncovered, my freckles easy to spot under the lights. The strands of my red hair have escaped around the edges and back of the cowl and my blue eyes are about the only thing the mask really frames instead of hides.
“So… not exactly a grand reveal.”
I glance over at Mara with a warm smile.
“I’m just glad we’re meeting again because of a fundraiser instead of an evacuation.”
My attention shifts back to Lana.
“And hockey tickets, huh?”
I tilt my head.
“How old’s your son? Is he completely obsessed with the Mammoths or is this one of those ‘I’ll watch any game as long as there are snacks’ situations’?
I ask with a smile.
“I’m asking because… depending on the answer, maybe I can help make it a little more special if you end up winning those tickets. No promises. Just seeing what I might be able to do.”
I grin at the screen of my phone when I get her answer.
Batwoman, if you’re too old for social media, then half of Gotham needs to delete their accounts.
I shake my head with a laugh.
And Batman… Oh, he’s still Batman. Brooding, giving me that ‘be careful’ speech every other patrol, acting like I haven’t been doing this for years. I give him a hard time right back. It’s only fair.
I smirk.
And I’m doing pretty good, thanks for asking. Busy as always. Gotham never seems to run out of weird, but I guess that’s what keeps life interesting. What about you?
Twist my arm, why don't you? I'm all too aware of the older Gothamites on websites like Facebook and Twitter, posting corny photos with even cornier captions. I can only hope I'm not going to be posting the same in a few years.
'Be careful.' At least he still tells you that. Last time I checked in I was on some 'three strike' count. It seems these days he tries to control every vigilante, anywhere.
And he's always been controlling, but I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up while I was on some off-world mission to give me a piece of his mind on what I do with 'his' symbol.
It's good that you're good. That's relieving to hear. I'm just investigating more of R.O.C. 's cults and the like. Dad's got some of his men monitoring the sanatorium Beth's in, just to be sure they don't go after her again.
The cult's always been annoying. From stabbing my heart to Alice. Can I be honest for a moment? I don't want them to keep going after my family. But they're anything but able to move on from B.
First of all, if I ever catch you posting a blurry selfie with ‘Living my best life 😎’ on it, you can bet I’m saving the screenshot.
I make the joke and pause for a second before getting serious.
And yep… Batman can be a lot. I love him, but sometimes I think he forgets we’re not recruits anymore.
As for the cult… that part just sucks. Nobody should have to keep looking over their shoulder wondering who’s next. You, Beth, your dad… that’s a lot to carry.
I rest my chin in my hand for a moment.
I get why you’re tired of it. They’re obsessed, and people like that don’t know when to quit. But you know what? You’re still here. Every time they’ve tried to break you or your family, you’ve gotten back up. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but it says something about you.”
And if they think Gotham’s Bat-family is just going to stand around while they come after one of our own, they’re even crazier than I thought. Can I help you somehow?
And I will not be posting anything like that ever, I hope. If you do see that, just know some alien parasite's taken over, Batgirl.
I love him. Somewhat. Well, obviously, actually. Blood runs thicker than water. Family is family, even if it's a man with less than favourable negative traits mixed in with the good. Like... a very average granola, I suppose. There's good and the bad.
It does suck. Thanks for listening to me, I'm glad I can talk to someone other than off-loading to my father or Bruce, when he's particularly amicable.
They are obsessed. Awfully so, but I guess by now it's nothing I can't handle. As always, I was forged by fire, not anyone in particular. I'll take your words as a compliment, but endurance is something built into me.
Through every military training, through all of my father's training, I was taught to 'soldier up.' And when you serve, you serve for life– even long after you've retired. I'm always ready for a fight, and I won't plan on backing down any time soon. Enough creepy cults can keep bugging me, I'll hold my own.
I think, at least right now, there's not much you can do. You've got your priorities here in Gotham, I have my own. But thanks for offering, Batgirl.
Okay, if I ever see you posting one of those ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ quotes, I’m assuming an alien’s taken over and I’m coming to rescue you.
And ‘average granola’ might be my new favorite way to describe Batman.
I’m really glad you told me all this. I know you’ve been taught to keep moving no matter what gets thrown at you, and I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But you don’t always have to be the strong one. Even people like us deserve to put everything down for a little while.
So how about this? Next time we’re both free, come over and let me cook us lunch or dinner. Nothing complicate, just some good food, a quiet evening, and no masks, no patrols, no cults, and no Batman reminding us to be careful every five minutes.
I think it’d be nice to just hang out for a change. No mission, no agenda. Just two Bat-women sharing a meal and catching up like family. The invitation’s always open. Whenever you need a break, or even if you just feel like eating something that didn’t come out of a takeout box, you know where to find me.
That sounds like a dream for either of us. But.. if I ever am free enough to call you, and you come over, that'd be nice. I'll take you up on that offer, sometime, and let's hope it doesn't get interrupted by some crisis.
It would be nice to hang out. I'd like to try your cooking, mine isn't.. the best.
I really appreciate it. And I'll have you know if you ever need me, or if any of you do at the cave, I'll try my best to be available. Working with a team at the Belfry– even with the Colony, wasn't all so bad.
So.. yeah. Feel free to come over when we're both free. It'd be welcome. As much as being a cape is my life, there should be a balance.
Tell the Bat I say hi. Maybe I should come over to the Manor sometime, too.
Now you’ve gone and made it official. You said you’d take me up on it, so I’m holding you to that. And if a crisis interrupts dinner, we’ll just throw the leftovers in the fridge, go save the day and come back to them later. Gotham can wait five more minutes while we reheat dinner.
I’m really looking forward to it. I like cooking when I get the chance, especially if it’s for family. Actually… what’s your favorite dish? If I’m inviting you over, I might as well make something you really enjoy. I can’t promise it’ll be restaurant quality, but I promise it’ll be made with a lot more care than anything we’d grab between patrols.
And thanks. It means a lot knowing you’d be there if any of us needed you. I hope it never comes to that, but it’s nice knowing we’ve always got each other’s backs. You should definitely come by the Manor sometime. We all spend so much time running around that we forget we’re allowed to just exist together once in a while.
I’ll tell Batman you said hi. I might even leave out the part where you called him average granola. Depends on how many lectures he gives me before then.
So think about that favorite meal of yours. You’ve officially got a standing invitation and I’d love to make it for you.
Gotham can wait. That is something more heroes need to take to heart, seriously.
I'm glad you like cooking. I can follow a recipe fine, I enjoy it as I do it but it's not my passion. Not like playing guitar or fighting crime. And my favorite dish? That's a hard question. Nothing in particular, but I like things with lots of flavor, if that helps. Spices.
Of course I'd be there. Even though I can't say I really am there all the time– it's more than likely I'm in another country for months at a time, I think of you all as family. Or, well, whatever's closest to it. And we have to keep each-others' backs, even when we tend to be pit against each-other.
I had a feeling you’d give me an answer like that. So… lots of flavor and spices. Good to know. Although I should warn you I usually cook pretty light. Lots of veggies, grilled chicken or fish… fresh stuff like that. My stomach and really spicy food don’t always get along, so I don’t go too crazy with the seasoning.
But… I can make an exception. If I’m cooking for you, I’ll happily turn the spice level up a few notches. I’ll just make sure I keep a milder serving for myself.
And guitar over cooking, huh? Fair enough. We all have our thing.
Don’t worry about being halfway around the world. Family isn’t about being in the same place every day. It’s knowing that if one of us calls, the others will do everything they can to answer. So I really appreciate you saying that. It goes both ways.
And you’re welcome. I think we could all use a reminder we’re allowed to have dinner together once in a while instead of meeting on rooftops or in the middle of some disaster. And if Gotham behaves itself for just one night, maybe we’ll even get to eat it while it’s still hot.
Hey, my stomach and I made a deal a long time ago. I don’t push it too hard and it lets me keep running across rooftops. But don’t worry, I can still make food with plenty of flavor without setting either of us on fire.
You play in bars? I didn’t know that, and that’s actually really cool! Kinda love the idea of you playing guitar before heading out on patrol! Sounds like a good way to clear your head.
And I’m looking forward to that dinner too. I’m just thinking… since you’re making this easy by saying you’ll eat anything… is there actually something you don’t like? Any food you absolutely won’t touch? Figure I should probably know before I start planning a menu. You know, I’d hate to spend an hour cooking only to find out I accidentally picked the one thing you can’t stand.
I trust your cooking will be flavourful. No worries here. I imagine you cook for yourself often? I really just get pad Thai typically or order in. I'm still down to hear about what you cool, though.
And I do! Just on the nights when I have time for it. It is something to clear my head, yeah. Do you do anything like that?
Something I won't touch? Eh, fine. Rare enough, but pomegranate isn't my favorite. I doubt you'd be using any though, haha. Thanks for asking. Really, anything's great except anything with pomegranates.
Okay, that’s actually good to know, because I’ve used pomegranate in salads before. Every now and then I’ll throw some in with spinach, walnuts and feta. But don’t worry, I’ll keep the pomegranate far away from your plate.
And yep, I cook for myself when I can. Although weekdays are kind of a mess. Between work and the whole Batgirl stuff, there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I usually grab lunch at a little café near my workplace, then I’ll head home later and make myself something simple for dinner before patrol. Nothing fancy. Just healthy food that doesn’t take forever.
The weekends are a different story. If I actually get a quieter one, that’s when I like spending more time in the kitchen. I’ll try a new recipe, bake something or make a proper meal instead of rushing through it. I guess cooking’s one of those things that helps me slow my brain down for a bit. It’s nice to focus on something that doesn’t involve chasing criminals.
As for hobbies… to be honest, I don’t get nearly enough time for them. You must’ve guessed I read everything I can when I can, and every now and then I’ll find a little time to bake or cook just because I want to, not because I need dinner.
So now I’m curious. If you get pad Thai all the time, am I gonna have to convince you there’s life beyond takeout?
I've had pomegranate salads a lot, too. They were Beth's favorite, back in the.. You know, what, nevermind. I should stop making the mood so sullen, with all the talk of the R.O.C and everything.
That sounds pretty nice! As a typical heiress, I don't bother with a day job, unless you count when cases come into the light of morning and I've found out I've been chasing someone into the dawn. Maybe I should make better use of my free time. Mind giving the name of the café? I'm curious.
That seems pretty neat. I'm glad you have something to wind down to, and hell the smell of cookies in the oven or grilling meat must be nice.
And.. hey, I didn't grow up with a butler like a certain man did, but I know the taste of a home-cooked meal. It's just not my forte.
Hey… you don’t have to apologize for talking about Beth. I’m the one who asked about food. If a memory comes with it, then it comes with it. Besides, not every memory has to ruin the mood. If pomegranate reminds you of her, I’d rather hear the good memories than pretend they never happened. And for what it’s worth, I promise I won’t put any in your salad.
As for lunch, I usually end up at Cornerstone Café on Kane Street, just a couple of minutes from Gotham City Public Library. It’s close enough that I can walk over, eat and still get back to work without having to rush too much. So… if you’re ever around Gotham around lunchtime, are you joining me on my lunch break? You can't say no. It's your street after all, isn't it? Consider it a sign. I can’t promise it’ll be exciting. It’ll probably just be sandwiches, soup or whatever the daily special is. But I think the company would make up for it.
And yep… I get what you mean about the butler thing. I wasn’t raised with an Alfred either. My mom died when I was really little, so it was mostly just me and my dad growing up. He did his best and I learned to take care of myself pretty early. Cooking kind of became part of that.
So don’t worry if it’s not your thing. You can bring the guitar stories and I’ll handle the cooking. I think that’s a pretty fair trade.
Well, I live close to crime alley. Avoiding an occasional run-in with villains is the hard part over there. Especially as a Walmart employee. I can't even recall how many times I've had to explain to Poison Ivy that all the honey we sell is ethically harvested because bees are naturally unionized. Among other random moments like that.
Wait… you work at the Walmart near Crime Alley? 😊
I know that Walmart! I’ve swung by a few times before patrol to pick up things like batteries, bandages or other last-minute supplies!
To be honest, I’m not even surprised Poison Ivy has opinions about your honey aisle. That sounds like peak Gotham. Retail around here has to be an adventure. I get to trade jokes with villains because I’m wearing a cape and carrying a utility belt. You deserve credit for dealing with Gotham’s weirdness while you’re just trying to get through your shift.
Tell you what… if you’re comfortable with it and our timing ever lines up, I’d be happy to stop by your Walmart for a quick meet-and-greet. Nothing fancy, just a chance to say hi and thank you in person for putting up with Gotham’s chaos and for complimenting me ☺️
And if you overhear me roasting another criminal while you’re nearby, feel free to rate my one-liners afterward. I can handle honest reviews 😉
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because there’s really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.
Crantini number three Lois says to herself as she picks up the drink from the server's tray. She shoves some cheese-ball-appetizer-thing in her mouth before grabbing a second. She would never pass up an offering of cheese.
The striking cut of a woman strutting towards the silent auction caught her eye. She would know that gait anywhere. "Babs?" She calls out.
I stop just before the auction tables. That voice. I glance over my shoulder and spot Lois. It takes me about half a second to realize what she just called me, and my eyes widen just a tiny bit before I cover it with a grin. I walk over without making a scene, keeping my voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“Easy, Ms. Lane… you’re gonna have me answering to ‘Batgirl’ for the rest of the night if we’re not careful.”
I say with a quiet laugh and hook a thumb toward the crowd around us.
“Walls have ears. Newsrooms probably have even better ones.”
My attention flicks to the drink in her hand and then the cheese disappearing almost as quickly.
“How many already?”
I ask with a smirk.
“Either this party’s treating you well or you’re stress-testing the open bar.”
I glance back toward the auction display for a second.
“And I was just about to get distracted by a fundraiser for a library. That’s practically cheating when I’m around.”
I fold my arms loosely, cape settling behind me, and ask with a smile.
“So… you surviving the party so far or are you already looking for an excuse to escape?”
"Sorry," Lois whispered. She raised an eyebrow as sipped her martini. If the woman only knew. But this wasn't a newsroom. This was the belly of the beast. And everyone here was more wrapped up in their own ego to pay attention.
"Three," she shrugged. The bartenders were pouring strong but nothing her natural tolerance couldn't handle. Seven more and Clark would have to carry her out. "You know no bar can handle a Lois Lane Stress-Test."
Lois nodded about the library.
"If I had a choice between being here or crawling into bed with Jon to read him a bedtime story..." She would always choose her son first.
"But what about you?" She nodded her head indicating the costume. "Please don't tell me they hired you for some weird clown show." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I believe that. If any bar can survive a Lois Lane stress-test, it’s earned a medal.”
Then I grin at the idea of them hiring me.
“Oh, yeah. They hired me to pull rabbits out of my cape and make balloon animals. Is something about my batsuit wrong, Ms. Lane?”
I pause a few seconds before shaking my cowled head.
“Nah. I’m just here as a guest.”
I glance around the room, my smile softening a little.
“After everything that happened here a few months ago… I ended up helping get a few people out during the attacks. Mara Feig was one of them.”
My eyes drift across the room for a moment before settling back on Lois and I shrug.
“I guess somebody at GBS remembered. And when the invitation came, I asked if I could attend as Batgirl. It’s a lot easier than trying to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has an invitation to a GBS event. You might say the charity auction for the library was a perfect excuse, but I promise you I had no idea this was gonna happen.”
A small smile appears onto my face and I fold my arms loosely as I glance toward the crowd.
“Besides, it’s nice getting invited somewhere that doesn’t end with someone trying to gas the room or steal a priceless artifact. Although I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that tonight stays boring.”
"Wait. Back up a minute..." Being the only civilian member of the Justice League was something that Lois guarded with her life. She was the first and only line of defense against the public. The amount of stories she had to kill or help debunk of identities getting out used to be a daily occurrence.
I blink at her for a second before shaking my head.
“No, no. You completely misunderstood me. Nobody here knows who I really am. You’re still in a very exclusive club.”
I keep my voice low as I motion around the room.
“When the attacks happened, I was here as Batgirl. I helped get people out, including Mara Feig. So the invitation was for Batgirl, not Barbara Gordon. When they reached out, I just asked if they were okay with me showing up in the mask. It saves me from having to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has a reason to be at a GBS News reopening.”
A grin spreads across my face.
“And it keeps my dad from wondering why his daughter somehow knows half the people in this room.”
I lean in just a little.
“So, no panic. My secret’s still a secret.”
I pause for a few seconds before adding with a completely straight face.
“Besides, if you told anyone, I’d have to kidnap you… okay, actually, you’re Lois Lane. You’re probably getting a little tired of being kidnapped.”
I sigh dramatically.
“So I guess I’d have to go with the other option.”
The corner of my mouth curls into a grin before I ruin the act with a quiet laugh.
“Kidding. Please don’t make me explain to your husband why I threatened his wife over a martini.”
The amount of times Lois' life had been on the line would've cracked a normal person's brain to smithereens. Instead she made sure a dish never broke in her presence. "Yes... my husband..." She gulped the rest of her drink down.
She looped her arm with Batgirl's, leading her into the silent auction room. "Tell me more about this Mara Feig."
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I agree, sassiness isn't inherently mean. It's a personality trait that shows up in sarcasm. I've noticed it the few times I've overheard your banter with Gotham villains.
Ha! I’ll take that as a compliment. I try to save the sarcasm for people who are actively making Gotham a worse place.
But hold on… you said you’ve overheard me bantering with Gotham villains a few times? How exactly have you managed that? Were you nearby when something went down or do I have an audience I don’t know about?
I’m hoping it’s the first one, because if you’re regularly hanging around criminals, we’re gonna have a very different conversation.
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because there’s really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.
I glance over and notice the two of them looking at the display case. My eyes settle on the antique knife for a second.
“Well… that’s one way to get people’s attention at a charity auction.”
I step a little closer, keeping a respectful distance from the glass.
“It’s definitely got some history behind it. Hopefully just the interesting kind. I’ve handled enough sharp objects to know they usually come with stories. The older they are, the stranger those stories tend to get.”
A small grin crosses my face and I fold my arms loosely.
“I’m guessing you’re both trying to decide whether to bid on it or you’re just curious?”
I tilt my head toward the case.
“Personally, I think I’d rather admire it from this side of the glass. Makes for a lot less paperwork.”
Anne turns towards you and begins to glare before turning back to the intern. “Come on, i can just rent a storage place to put the rest in if it as bad as you say”
“This is Anne, and I’m….” The intern pauses as he realizes what you just said before turning around to look at you “wait what’s the bat family doing here”
“You kicked me in the face during my falcone days”, Anne thinks winching internally, “yep, Gotham born and raised, though my friend is originally from a place called New York, I don’t know where that is unfortunately”
“That might be it. I’ve stopped by Bat Burger a couple of times over the years, even if I’m more of a healthy-food person. Patrol burns a lot of calories, but it doesn’t magically make burgers a balanced diet.”
I smile at the girl.
“Sorry, faces tend to blur together after a while. Gotham keeps me busy.”
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because there’s really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.
Crantini number three Lois says to herself as she picks up the drink from the server's tray. She shoves some cheese-ball-appetizer-thing in her mouth before grabbing a second. She would never pass up an offering of cheese.
The striking cut of a woman strutting towards the silent auction caught her eye. She would know that gait anywhere. "Babs?" She calls out.
I stop just before the auction tables. That voice. I glance over my shoulder and spot Lois. It takes me about half a second to realize what she just called me, and my eyes widen just a tiny bit before I cover it with a grin. I walk over without making a scene, keeping my voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“Easy, Ms. Lane… you’re gonna have me answering to ‘Batgirl’ for the rest of the night if we’re not careful.”
I say with a quiet laugh and hook a thumb toward the crowd around us.
“Walls have ears. Newsrooms probably have even better ones.”
My attention flicks to the drink in her hand and then the cheese disappearing almost as quickly.
“How many already?”
I ask with a smirk.
“Either this party’s treating you well or you’re stress-testing the open bar.”
I glance back toward the auction display for a second.
“And I was just about to get distracted by a fundraiser for a library. That’s practically cheating when I’m around.”
I fold my arms loosely, cape settling behind me, and ask with a smile.
“So… you surviving the party so far or are you already looking for an excuse to escape?”
"Sorry," Lois whispered. She raised an eyebrow as sipped her martini. If the woman only knew. But this wasn't a newsroom. This was the belly of the beast. And everyone here was more wrapped up in their own ego to pay attention.
"Three," she shrugged. The bartenders were pouring strong but nothing her natural tolerance couldn't handle. Seven more and Clark would have to carry her out. "You know no bar can handle a Lois Lane Stress-Test."
Lois nodded about the library.
"If I had a choice between being here or crawling into bed with Jon to read him a bedtime story..." She would always choose her son first.
"But what about you?" She nodded her head indicating the costume. "Please don't tell me they hired you for some weird clown show." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I believe that. If any bar can survive a Lois Lane stress-test, it’s earned a medal.”
Then I grin at the idea of them hiring me.
“Oh, yeah. They hired me to pull rabbits out of my cape and make balloon animals. Is something about my batsuit wrong, Ms. Lane?”
I pause a few seconds before shaking my cowled head.
“Nah. I’m just here as a guest.”
I glance around the room, my smile softening a little.
“After everything that happened here a few months ago… I ended up helping get a few people out during the attacks. Mara Feig was one of them.”
My eyes drift across the room for a moment before settling back on Lois and I shrug.
“I guess somebody at GBS remembered. And when the invitation came, I asked if I could attend as Batgirl. It’s a lot easier than trying to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has an invitation to a GBS event. You might say the charity auction for the library was a perfect excuse, but I promise you I had no idea this was gonna happen.”
A small smile appears onto my face and I fold my arms loosely as I glance toward the crowd.
“Besides, it’s nice getting invited somewhere that doesn’t end with someone trying to gas the room or steal a priceless artifact. Although I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that tonight stays boring.”
"Wait. Back up a minute..." Being the only civilian member of the Justice League was something that Lois guarded with her life. She was the first and only line of defense against the public. The amount of stories she had to kill or help debunk of identities getting out used to be a daily occurrence.
I blink at her for a second before shaking my head.
“No, no. You completely misunderstood me. Nobody here knows who I really am. You’re still in a very exclusive club.”
I keep my voice low as I motion around the room.
“When the attacks happened, I was here as Batgirl. I helped get people out, including Mara Feig. So the invitation was for Batgirl, not Barbara Gordon. When they reached out, I just asked if they were okay with me showing up in the mask. It saves me from having to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has a reason to be at a GBS News reopening.”
A grin spreads across my face.
“And it keeps my dad from wondering why his daughter somehow knows half the people in this room.”
I lean in just a little.
“So, no panic. My secret’s still a secret.”
I pause for a few seconds before adding with a completely straight face.
“Besides, if you told anyone, I’d have to kidnap you… okay, actually, you’re Lois Lane. You’re probably getting a little tired of being kidnapped.”
I sigh dramatically.
“So I guess I’d have to go with the other option.”
The corner of my mouth curls into a grin before I ruin the act with a quiet laugh.
“Kidding. Please don’t make me explain to your husband why I threatened his wife over a martini.”
Wow, you are a sassy lady and I think that's awesome. You definitely have a sharp wit.
Haha, thanks, Anon! I guess… 😅
But now you’ve got me curious... what did I say that earned me the ‘sassy lady’ title? And more importantly… who are you?
I promise I’m not trying to unmask you or anything. I’m just wondering what inspired this message. Either way, I’m glad you enjoy the sarcasm. Gotham gives me plenty of material to work with! Like if I can make a joke while tying up a bank robber or talking a nervous witness through a bad day, that’s a win.
And I like to think there’s a difference between being sassy and being mean. Besides, Gotham has enough people trying to be intimidating. Someone has to provide the sarcastic commentary, right? 😉
Open RP: Metropolis Office W-GBS News Reopening Party
Please, before reacting/responding, read the piece in full as there are several different 'rooms' up, such as: the cocktail hall (this post), the dining room (link), the terrace (link) and the silent auction (link).
PS: Canon characters, OCs and crossover characters may interact with the post. No response length is expected, even just side commentary is fine on this post (some may even just watch arrivals on their tv if they're not attending, for exemple). We won't police anyone's interactions, but maybe make sure you're welcome into a conversation if you hop on existing threads between people. Otherwise, feel free to hop from a location to another as you please, even hold several different conversations with the same character, it's all very free!
GBS News had spared no expense for the event. From the very entrance hall that had been decorated with a backdrop in their colours and with their logo where people were photographed or pulled aside for short interviews, to the burgundy carpet guiding guests straight to the cocktail hall.
The hall's decoration had been kept minimalist and functional, clearly a space made for professional needs first. But the whole thing still managed to look welcoming and tasteful, with a stage at the very rear and a bar with an art deco inspiration on the left, tended by several people of different genders but all wearing the exact same outfit. Black pants held by black suspenders, and a white button up with rolled up sleeves and a black tie. Meanwhile, other people dressed the exact same way except that their sleeves were rolled down and they were long black aprons were going around the room with trays to offer different amuse bouches, prepped to clarify on allergens and ingredients to accomodate dietary restrictions.
Eventually, as people started to fill the room, M. Matthew Matheson appeared on the large stage, beginning his very short address to the guests:
“Good evening everyone. As some of you might know, and others might not, my name is M. Matthew Matheson and I am a News Anchor on W-GBS News, as well as Managing Editor of News Nights. I, I have always taken great pride in the work we did, believing, no, knowing, it was important to inform people, to speak about what was important and to shed lights on issues that should not remain obfuscated. This is what journalism is about right? When I got into this position, I got in with the following mindset: People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. Not everybody, not even a lot of people, maybe 5%. But a 5% that'll make a difference. Because I believed journalist needed to be reclaimed as an honorable profession. Especially on tv. So we worked, we worked on creating a nightly newscast that informs a debate worthy of a great nation. Civility, respect, and a return to what's important; the death of bitchiness; the death of gossip and voyeurism; the will to speak truth to stupid. No target audience, no demographic, just good work. When GBS News started to climb back on top, to re-establish ourselves and become a national powerhouse, I was terrified. We'd gone well beyond the 5%. But I remember a call with a colleague, an old man named Perry White, some of you might have heard of him, he told me I was idiot, and I said sure, but why? And he responded: where does it say that a good news show or good tv channel can't be popular? And I remember being at loss of words, which, you can ask anyone who knows me, doesn't happen often. Today, GBS News is taking another fresh start, and all I have to say is, let's keep being us, let's keep our honour, and our integrity and our will, and let's do good with the might we've acquired. Let's be great, let's be us. For the people who we've lost doing exactly that and for those who've grown to place their trust in us, to do exactly that. To W-GBS news! And to all the people working here, making it what it is! Now I think I've taken enough of your time, so please help yourself to the food, keep any smoking or God forbid vaping to our terrace, and don't forget to participate to the silent auction! All the funds will be donated Metropolis Brown Library! Thank you very much, this was M. Matthew Matheson who clearly can't wait to be back on tv!"
With those final words, the news anchor disappeared backstage and was soon replaced by a modern jazz quartet. Eventually though, Matheson reappeared amongst the crowd of the cocktail party, ready to make his round.
Cocktail Hall (you are here) | Dining Room | Silent Auction Room | Terrace
I step through the entrance, smile for a couple of photos because there’s really no escaping that part and then make my way inside. The place looks nice without trying too hard. Clean, classy, expensive. It definitely feels more like a newsroom throwing a party than a party pretending to be a newsroom.
I take a slow lap around the room. Old habit. I like knowing where everything is before I settle anywhere. Stage in the back. Bar off to the left. Staff weaving through the crowd with trays of tiny snacks that somehow look too pretty to eat. One of them offers me a tray and I grab a small bite after making sure there’s nothing in it that’ll wreck my meal plan. Even at a fancy party, I’m not about to lose a fight to hidden cream cheese.
I glance toward the stage where the jazz band has already started playing. It’s good background music. Loud enough to fill the room, quiet enough that people can still talk without yelling over it. The speech sticks with me too. I spend enough nights chasing people who lie for a living to appreciate hearing someone stand up and talk about telling the truth instead. That’s worth something.
I smooth a glove over my cape, adjust the cowl just a little and keep walking through the room at an easy pace. Every few steps I recognize another face from TV, newspapers or one of Gotham’s charity galas. Different city, same type of people.
Then my eyes land on the silent auction tables. A fundraiser for a library? Yeah… now that gets my attention. I head that way with a grin already creeping onto my face. If somebody expects me to walk past books without stopping, they clearly don’t know me very well.
Crantini number three Lois says to herself as she picks up the drink from the server's tray. She shoves some cheese-ball-appetizer-thing in her mouth before grabbing a second. She would never pass up an offering of cheese.
The striking cut of a woman strutting towards the silent auction caught her eye. She would know that gait anywhere. "Babs?" She calls out.
I stop just before the auction tables. That voice. I glance over my shoulder and spot Lois. It takes me about half a second to realize what she just called me, and my eyes widen just a tiny bit before I cover it with a grin. I walk over without making a scene, keeping my voice low enough that it doesn’t carry.
“Easy, Ms. Lane… you’re gonna have me answering to ‘Batgirl’ for the rest of the night if we’re not careful.”
I say with a quiet laugh and hook a thumb toward the crowd around us.
“Walls have ears. Newsrooms probably have even better ones.”
My attention flicks to the drink in her hand and then the cheese disappearing almost as quickly.
“How many already?”
I ask with a smirk.
“Either this party’s treating you well or you’re stress-testing the open bar.”
I glance back toward the auction display for a second.
“And I was just about to get distracted by a fundraiser for a library. That’s practically cheating when I’m around.”
I fold my arms loosely, cape settling behind me, and ask with a smile.
“So… you surviving the party so far or are you already looking for an excuse to escape?”
"Sorry," Lois whispered. She raised an eyebrow as sipped her martini. If the woman only knew. But this wasn't a newsroom. This was the belly of the beast. And everyone here was more wrapped up in their own ego to pay attention.
"Three," she shrugged. The bartenders were pouring strong but nothing her natural tolerance couldn't handle. Seven more and Clark would have to carry her out. "You know no bar can handle a Lois Lane Stress-Test."
Lois nodded about the library.
"If I had a choice between being here or crawling into bed with Jon to read him a bedtime story..." She would always choose her son first.
"But what about you?" She nodded her head indicating the costume. "Please don't tell me they hired you for some weird clown show." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I believe that. If any bar can survive a Lois Lane stress-test, it’s earned a medal.”
Then I grin at the idea of them hiring me.
“Oh, yeah. They hired me to pull rabbits out of my cape and make balloon animals. Is something about my batsuit wrong, Ms. Lane?”
I pause a few seconds before shaking my cowled head.
“Nah. I’m just here as a guest.”
I glance around the room, my smile softening a little.
“After everything that happened here a few months ago… I ended up helping get a few people out during the attacks. Mara Feig was one of them.”
My eyes drift across the room for a moment before settling back on Lois and I shrug.
“I guess somebody at GBS remembered. And when the invitation came, I asked if I could attend as Batgirl. It’s a lot easier than trying to explain why Barbara Gordon suddenly has an invitation to a GBS event. You might say the charity auction for the library was a perfect excuse, but I promise you I had no idea this was gonna happen.”
A small smile appears onto my face and I fold my arms loosely as I glance toward the crowd.
“Besides, it’s nice getting invited somewhere that doesn’t end with someone trying to gas the room or steal a priceless artifact. Although I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that tonight stays boring.”
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Dear batgirl. Interpret my words anyway you please. But in a court of law, this was not an admission of guilt. So for the record. I am not planning anything now or in the future.
Since you’re not planning anything now or in the future, I assume all your experiments are completely harmless and perfectly legal these days. So how about this? Give me a tour sometime. I’d love to see your latest totally legal research in person. I’m sure you won’t mind an unexpected Bat-inspection if everything’s on the up-and-up.
Hopefully you can forgive my refusal. See I am currently at an undiscussed place of recidance. And my experiments are at home. I already don't appreciate the people in my space, so I'll politely decline your self invite to my house. But if we meet sometimes while on the street. I would be happy to introduce you to my latest developments.
Now you’re making it sound like we’re trying to coordinate schedules. ‘Meet me out on the street and I’ll show you my latest developments’. You really know how to ask a girl out in the most Gotham way possible.
Alright… next time we run into each other, you can give me the grand tour. I’ll even let you explain your brilliant scientific breakthrough before I tell you why it’s wildly illegal and start trying to arrest you. Just one request: leave the fear toxin at home. I’d rather see you than whatever nightmare you’re hoping I’ll mistake you for.
You misunderstand my intentions. I am in no way trying to meet you in person. I tried to politely decline you. But seeing as gentry is dead. I will put it in simple man's words. Please stay away from me.
I was being sarcastic. I know perfectly well you don’t actually wanna meet me. You’re a career criminal, I’m the person who keeps trying to stop you, and I’m willing to bet your ‘latest developments’ wouldn’t survive five minutes of legal inspection. So don’t worry… I didn’t mistake your rejection for an invitation.
That said, if our paths happen to cross while you’re out testing one of those completely legal experiments you definitely aren’t planning… well, I’ll say hello.
Dear batgirl. Interpret my words anyway you please. But in a court of law, this was not an admission of guilt. So for the record. I am not planning anything now or in the future.
Since you’re not planning anything now or in the future, I assume all your experiments are completely harmless and perfectly legal these days. So how about this? Give me a tour sometime. I’d love to see your latest totally legal research in person. I’m sure you won’t mind an unexpected Bat-inspection if everything’s on the up-and-up.
Hopefully you can forgive my refusal. See I am currently at an undiscussed place of recidance. And my experiments are at home. I already don't appreciate the people in my space, so I'll politely decline your self invite to my house. But if we meet sometimes while on the street. I would be happy to introduce you to my latest developments.
Now you’re making it sound like we’re trying to coordinate schedules. ‘Meet me out on the street and I’ll show you my latest developments’. You really know how to ask a girl out in the most Gotham way possible.
Alright… next time we run into each other, you can give me the grand tour. I’ll even let you explain your brilliant scientific breakthrough before I tell you why it’s wildly illegal and start trying to arrest you. Just one request: leave the fear toxin at home. I’d rather see you than whatever nightmare you’re hoping I’ll mistake you for.
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
If I knew more about your planet than whatever surface level nonsense that Jordan spews, perhaps I would agree more on all parts. All I know is they are small and idiotic, and mean nothing.
Do not mistake me for someone who cares about however your pitiful world works. If you all crumble and lead to each other's inevitable demise, I will not bat an eye.
Bat an eye? C’mon, you practically handed me that one. Funny choice of words coming from someone talking to a member of the Batfamily.
Trust me, we’ve got plenty of eyes on Earth already. Mine included. So if some self-appointed space dictator decides to make this planet his latest project, one of us is bound to show up.
You sure spend a lot of time writing essays about us for someone who doesn’t care. That’s a whole lot of words for ‘not my problem’. So maybe you won’t bat an eye… but I think you keep one yellow eye on this planet more than you’d like to admit.
It's a saying from my understanding, do words not have double meanings in your language? I thought that would be clear to you. "Batfamily" sounds ridiculous, I do hope you're aware of that.
The only reason I care for your idiotic planet is because It might possibly bring me closer to my inevitable success and power. I'm sure you and your other little humans will try and fight a fight that you will lose, it's almost entertaining to see you care so much about something so meaningless.
I don't expect you to understand my intentions, Batgirl, was it? I watch your planet because you house strong lanterns and powerful beings that could be something more if beneath my thumb. Perhaps I've had history with your Earth and its people, but nothing I care for now. My attachments were lost long ago, my mission is far more important than any pathetic things such as that.
Oh, I know it’s a saying. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna ignore the free joke. And yep, ‘Batfamily’ may sound ridiculous to certain people or you. We never claimed to be great at branding.
You keep calling Earth meaningless, yet every other paragraph circles right back to us. Our Lanterns. Our people. Our potential. For a world you insist you don’t care about, you seem awfully interested in recruiting it.
Here’s the thing, Sinestro, was it? The strongest people I know don’t become strong because someone’s standing over them with a ring and a superiority complex. They become strong because they choose to be. So if your grand plan depends on everyone ending up beneath your thumb, maybe your version of ‘order’ isn’t as inevitable as you think.
Right. Your humor is odd. Considering you name yourselves after weird winged creatures from your planet I wouldn't suspect you would be.
Minimal aspects of your planet, as a whole you're just a hunk of rock and water with organic life upon it. I do not care for all of you nor do I want anything from you that is synonymous with the word 'caring.' You're very insistent on humanizing me in some sense, I don't see the use.
Your positivity is mind numbing. It does make me curious how you will react when all you know and can see is filled with ache and fear. When all else crumbles will you still stand? Perhaps for now I will not be able to take you all over, but you certainly are not a threat to me, nor is any of your strange clan of powerless humans, and we grow in numbers and power, we become something more. Greater.
We leave behind these attachments and hope that drag us behind and we accept what is the all consuming power of fear. There is no hurt, no loss. We do not need to feel much of anything besides what the great entity brings to us. We've almost wiped all of us whole solely by infecting one of your grief stricken heroes and pushing him to become what Jordan could have been, if he'd only joined me. Parallax will feast on what it so wishes.
You know, for someone who claims emotions are a weakness, you spend a surprising amount of time trying to convince everyone else to give theirs up. If your philosophy really sold itself, you wouldn’t have to keep giving the speech.
And you keep calling us powerless humans like that’s supposed to sting. Funny thing is, I’m one of those powerless humans you’re talking about. No power ring. No alien physiology. No magic. Just a cape, a lot of training and a bad habit of getting back up.
You ask if I’ll still stand when everything falls apart? Yep. That’s kinda the job. Fear has its place. It keeps people alive. But fear isn’t meant to be the one driving. The second it starts making your decisions for you, you’ve already lost more than any battle could ever take.
Oh! And for someone who says there’s ‘no hurt, no loss’… you bring up your old attachments, Jordan and Parallax an awful lot. Sounds like they never really left you.
Dear batgirl. Interpret my words anyway you please. But in a court of law, this was not an admission of guilt. So for the record. I am not planning anything now or in the future.
Since you’re not planning anything now or in the future, I assume all your experiments are completely harmless and perfectly legal these days. So how about this? Give me a tour sometime. I’d love to see your latest totally legal research in person. I’m sure you won’t mind an unexpected Bat-inspection if everything’s on the up-and-up.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
If I knew more about your planet than whatever surface level nonsense that Jordan spews, perhaps I would agree more on all parts. All I know is they are small and idiotic, and mean nothing.
Do not mistake me for someone who cares about however your pitiful world works. If you all crumble and lead to each other's inevitable demise, I will not bat an eye.
Bat an eye? C’mon, you practically handed me that one. Funny choice of words coming from someone talking to a member of the Batfamily.
Trust me, we’ve got plenty of eyes on Earth already. Mine included. So if some self-appointed space dictator decides to make this planet his latest project, one of us is bound to show up.
You sure spend a lot of time writing essays about us for someone who doesn’t care. That’s a whole lot of words for ‘not my problem’. So maybe you won’t bat an eye… but I think you keep one yellow eye on this planet more than you’d like to admit.
It's a saying from my understanding, do words not have double meanings in your language? I thought that would be clear to you. "Batfamily" sounds ridiculous, I do hope you're aware of that.
The only reason I care for your idiotic planet is because It might possibly bring me closer to my inevitable success and power. I'm sure you and your other little humans will try and fight a fight that you will lose, it's almost entertaining to see you care so much about something so meaningless.
I don't expect you to understand my intentions, Batgirl, was it? I watch your planet because you house strong lanterns and powerful beings that could be something more if beneath my thumb. Perhaps I've had history with your Earth and its people, but nothing I care for now. My attachments were lost long ago, my mission is far more important than any pathetic things such as that.
Oh, I know it’s a saying. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna ignore the free joke. And yep, ‘Batfamily’ may sound ridiculous to certain people or you. We never claimed to be great at branding.
You keep calling Earth meaningless, yet every other paragraph circles right back to us. Our Lanterns. Our people. Our potential. For a world you insist you don’t care about, you seem awfully interested in recruiting it.
Here’s the thing, Sinestro, was it? The strongest people I know don’t become strong because someone’s standing over them with a ring and a superiority complex. They become strong because they choose to be. So if your grand plan depends on everyone ending up beneath your thumb, maybe your version of ‘order’ isn’t as inevitable as you think.
Once one has everything they've ever wished for, what do they do with it?
You hear countless tales of idiots who gain all they have ever desired only to become dissatisfied and throw tantrums like children. They risk it all, and gain everything yet have nothing in turn.
I do not have anything. I am not one consumed by childish emotions and attachment. Perhaps, once upon a moon, I had something worthy of adoration, but I was a fool then. I have grown with time, with my strength. Planets will fall, lives will be lost. Sacrifice is imbedded into the souls of the living. We all lose, we all take risks.
But history seems to try and show us that these sacrifices will gain us nothing. Stories of idiots. We all learn from the mistakes of our ancestors, ones who lived and fought before us. I do not need anything but this. No old story and tale that is twisted and told by a fool will stop a Lord.
I will bring order, I will bring safety. I will rise against these fools and I will obliterate any chance of defeat. Will power was once mine, something I was afraid to lose. This will not happen again, I have become more than what I once was. I will not hold a fear that I cannot control. Fear is power. Fear will save you. I will be your savior.
One must suffer beneath the might of the gods before they climb through the cracks and become one themselves.
Look, we can already agree on something: our politicians, and those of many countries in general, are idiotic, liars, corrupt and manipulative. I think it's related to their pursuit of power and how they try to cling to it at all costs.
If I knew more about your planet than whatever surface level nonsense that Jordan spews, perhaps I would agree more on all parts. All I know is they are small and idiotic, and mean nothing.
Do not mistake me for someone who cares about however your pitiful world works. If you all crumble and lead to each other's inevitable demise, I will not bat an eye.
Bat an eye? C’mon, you practically handed me that one. Funny choice of words coming from someone talking to a member of the Batfamily.
Trust me, we’ve got plenty of eyes on Earth already. Mine included. So if some self-appointed space dictator decides to make this planet his latest project, one of us is bound to show up.
You sure spend a lot of time writing essays about us for someone who doesn’t care. That’s a whole lot of words for ‘not my problem’. So maybe you won’t bat an eye… but I think you keep one yellow eye on this planet more than you’d like to admit.
